Well, it's time to add a new entry under the heading "Things Everyone Else Saw Coming": I didn't exactly win money at the dog track. In fact, if we're going to get precise, I lost some money in my time there. It wasn't so bad that I had to sell the fillings in my teeth to get back home, but I did drop enough to furnish the men's room with plenty of new urinal cakes. I will never experience these urinal cakes though, because I am boycotting that bathroom and all that look like it after the cyclone of lameitude that swept me up there on Thursday afternoon.
I made the trip up to the track by myself, since no one else saw the allure of Senior Matinee Day. As happens with most trips I take where the destination is not my apartment, I got lost. In my defense, there was no way to know where the track was, except for a sign and an enormous racetrack by the side of the highway. By the time I clawed my way through the Granny Estelles and the Great Uncle Julios in the parking lot, the first race had already begun. I stifled a few tears, and swore silently that on the next race, I'd make them all very sorry for getting in my way. Amazingly, I did just that and won $11 on race #2. Giddy with victory's sweet perfume, I promptly lost the next several races, bringing me back to even. It was now time to get down to bidness.
With the program and my slide rule, I made a selection for the next race that had triumph written all over it. Of course, I declare that over the intercom before each race, but I meant it that time. In fact, I was so certain of my conquest, I decided I'd go to the bathroom one last time as a poor person before I placed this fated bet. I don't know if it's because the greyhound afficionados all wear adult diapers or they just have enormous bladders, but I could only find one restroom in the joint, and the restroom in question had a short line. Since I had like 10 minutes until the next race and there were only a few people in front of me, I opted to wait it out in line. Also, I was worried that the combination of the stress of the upcoming bet and my urgent need to relieve myself might cause me to wet my pants. Victory is slightly less sweet when you're wearing soggy britches.
So, the line moved along accordingly until I was at the head of it. There was only one stand-up urinal that was functioning, but I had a few minutes so I was not worried. Standing at the urinal was an older gentleman, someone who had obviously urinated at some point in his life. Well, at least that's what I thought ,until he proceeded to take the world's longest pee. Empires have risen and fallen in the amount of time that this guy stood there. Had it not been for the incredible acoustics of the lavatory, I would've thought he was just standing there, admiring the facilities. It was insane, and if the activity in question been one that a person could hurry, I would've been throwing dollar bills at him to finish it off. Instead, all I could do was stand there and grimace as he emptied his giant Sasquatch bladder.
When he finally left, I got in there and operated as quickly as could. No amount of rushing could prevent the fact that I missed the start of the race without placing my bet. Sure enough, my bet would've paid off to the tune of $60. Of course, had I really been able to place the bet, the dog would've turned rabid at the start gate and had to be put down. Nevertheless, I was depressed, utterly taken out of my game by the Lord of the Urinators. I proceeded to lose the rest every single bet for the rest of the day. Had I not been so in awe of his abilities, I would've tracked him down and pinched him until he hollered for mercy. I left the track a broken, dejected loser. However, on the way back to our hotel room, I saw a bar called the Poop Deck. In light of that, I declare the day a full success.
Posted by Cody at August 8, 2004 5:00 PM